


Store Policy

by Kawaiicoyote



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Always a girl Stiles, Bikini - Freeform, Dressing Rooms, Established Relationship, F/F, Fem!Stiles - Freeform, Genderbending, Groping, I'm horrible at tagging, slight sexy times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-15
Updated: 2013-06-15
Packaged: 2017-12-15 00:46:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/843351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kawaiicoyote/pseuds/Kawaiicoyote
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles stares into the full length dressing room mirror and wonders who she pissed off in a past life to deserve this kind of hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Store Policy

**Author's Note:**

> Sooooo it was suggested that I write more fem!Stiles. And this is what popped into my noggin.  
> Once again this is unbeta'd. I apologize so much for that.  
> I own nothing.

Stiles stares into the full length dressing room mirror and wonders who she pissed off in a past life to deserve this kind of hell.

A sharp knock on the slotted door, privacy what privacy it’s a _slotted panel door_ , has Stiles jumping and instinctively crossing her arms over her chest.

“Open the door, Stiles,” Lydia’s muffled voice says through the eggshell colored door. Stiles glares and sits down on the fluffy oversized ottoman, the only seating provided.

“No,” she mutters petulantly, arms crossing tighter over herself and chin tucked down to her chest. Stiles can hear Lydia huff and can practically hear Lydia’s eye roll.

The silence ticks by and Stiles finds herself squirming in place and glancing at the door to where she knows Lydia is waiting. With drooping shoulders and a sigh she stomps over to the door and flicks the lock.

It swings open, barely missing hitting Stiles right in the nose, and Lydia saunters in with the biggest shit eating grin. The door closes behind her with a soft click and Sties gulps, backing away to the other side of the dressing room.

“Now,” Lydia drawls silkily, Stiles gulps and is forced to sit down when the back of her knees hit the ottoman. “Was that _so hard_ , Stiles?”

Stiles glares at the floor and slouches down, hearing Lydia’s huff but it floored when in the next minute she has a lap full of Lydia, her arms circling around Stiles neck who is forced to either look up at her face or directly into the treasure trove that is her girlfriends bosom.

 _Priorities Stiles priorities, face first boobies second,_ Stiles chastises herself, making sure her eyes stay unwavering on Lydia’s smug face though she lets her hands stay firmly on Lydia’s hips.

“What are you so worried about?” Lydia asks quietly, her face softening now that she’s over her victory of getting Stiles to unlock the door.

Stiles wants to look anywhere else besides the girl in her lap. She’s uncomfortable about where the conversation is heading and wants to fight it.

She gives in and settles with a, “I’m not somebody who should be wearing a _bikini_ Lydia. You sure, me, nada.”

Stiles is once again surprised when the red head laughs, high and sweet, with the cutest smile, then leans right in and presses her shiny peach glossed lips to the tip of her button nose with an over exaggerated smack.

Sties does _not_ melt, she fucking does not.

Okay who is she kidding, she turns into complete putty. And Lydia knows this.

“You’re beautiful, Stiles.” Lydia says seriously. And Stiles knows she’s serious because Lydia has the tiniest crinkle that she gets right between her eyebrows when she’s serious. And yup, low and behold the crinkle makes an appearance.

In all honesty she wants to make a joke, to lessen the seriousness and make light of the situation. But for once Stiles keeps her mouth shut and offers a shaky smile to Lydia and tries to ignore the heat that’s dappling her cheeks and the tips of her ears.

“I’m serious.”

Sties nods and wraps her arms around Lydia’s waist, drawling the girl closer until not a breath of space is between them and their foreheads are fondly pressed against one another’s.

“I know, but honestly Lydia, _pink_?” Stiles is appalled at the color bikini she was accosted into trying on. Not to mention the fact that it’s a string bikini that barely covers her up at all.

Lydia giggles and pulls back, grinning like the cat that caught the canary. “I don’t know, there’s nothing wrong with the color. It goes well with your complexion.”

Stiles tries for her iciest glare, to at least mimic her girlfriends. It must fall flatter than her chest because said girlfriend merely smiles the dopiest of dopy smiles at her and pats her head affectionately.

“Cute,” Stiles glares even harder, “okay no pink. I’m guessing red was more your color anyway.”

Finally something she can agree with.

“I saw a red one on the next wrack to this pink flamenco disaster was,” Stile pipes up brightly. It’s a simple two piece that looks like it won’t leave her feeling completely naked and the bottoms are more like shorts than anything. It looks like something she could be more comfortable in.

Lydia hums, like she’s envisioning it in her head and nodding like she likes the idea of it. “The red halter and shorts combo,” she says slowly but Stiles can see the slow grin on her face and nearly wants to weep with relief, “I guess that one would suit you better.”

“Hallelujah!” Stiles whoops and flings her arms into the air. “Now that that’s settled let’s get me _out_ of this thing and buy the one that makes me feel less exposed.”

She moves to stand up which would dislodge Lydia from her lap. Instead Lydia’s thighs tighten on her hips and Stiles freezes.

“Did you know that I have yet to cross having sex in a dressing room off my bucket list?”

Stiles eyebrows shoot up and she jerks her head back. “You have a bucket list? Since when?! What else is on_”

She’s silenced when Lydia brings a finger to her lips, a look of fond bemusement across her face. “Stiles, I want to have sex in a dressing room.” Lydia says this slowly, as if to a child.

Stiles nods but feels like she’s missing the bigger picture of something.

Lydia rolls her eyes and says, “We’re _in_ a dressing room.”

Stiles eyes nearly bug out of the sockets and her jaw drops when Lydia emphasizes her point by tugging the flimsy string of the bikini top and it completely falls away from Stiles chest.

She will deny until she’s blue in the face that she whimpered. She’s above that, really she is. But okay who is she trying to kid, the nose that came out of her mouth is borderline obscene.

Lydia’s smile splits her face, full of white teeth and oh _God_ Stiles is so far gone for her when Lydia’s shirt ends up on the floor and her hands maneuver Stiles up under the micro mini skirt and since when does Lydia go commando.

The moment of sexy times ends abruptly, starting them both when a sharp loud knocking on their door interrupts them, making them both freeze.

A throat clears. “Pardon me ladies,” a voice filters in through the door. “But our store has a strict policy on one person per dressing room.” The woman sounds embarrassed and mortified and like she drew the short stick on which employee had to do the shaming honors.

Lydia is the one to get herself together first.

“We’ll be out in just one moment ma’am,” she calls out sweetly which must pacify the sales woman who makes a noise of acknowledgement and then there’s complete silence. Or as much silence as there can be in a department store.

Stiles slumps back against the wall, Lydia stays seated on her lap. They look at each other and burst out laughing.

“You think they know what we were really doing?” Stiles can’t help but ask.

Lydia shrugs, reluctantly climbing down and putting her shirt back on, managing to look flawless as ever. “You do have a certain look to you, what with the camouflage cargo shorts and batman shirt.”

Stiles makes an offended noise that sounds more like a dying whale. “That’s stereotyping! You can’t tell I dig chicks just because of the clothes I wear!”

Lydia looks at her, clearly unimpressed. “Then I guess it would have something to do with you necking me when I was trying to find proper swimwear for you.”

Stiles feels her face go beet red, she didn’t think anyone was around when she felt like being overly affectionate. Not that she’s ashamed of being with Lydia. She just didn’t want to be a hypocrite because couples that mack out in the open is kind of disgusting.

Okay she’s a hypocrite, sue her.

Lydia leaves the dressing room with that smug look back in place, leaving Stiles to dress as quickly, and clumsily, as humanly possible.

With the red two piece that they both agree on they make their way to the cash register, chatting about the pool party Lydia is throwing –also the reason Stiles needed a new suit in the first place according to Lydia-.

They pretend they don’t notice the sales woman can’t exactly meet their eyes and that beneath her layers of makeup she’s as red as the bathing suit they’re purchasing.

But if Lydia deliberately takes Stiles hand and press a slow kiss to the hinge of her jaw as they leave, well, Stiles sure as fuck won’t be the one to complain.

 

**Author's Note:**

> *flings self onto floor* I really love all the support all of you readers are giving me and I really love that you keep coming back for more.   
> Kudos and Comments are so so appreciated.   
> And for all of you who are still waiting on other things I'm writing I'm so sorry, I promise I'm working on it. Inspiration is slowly coming back to me I promise.


End file.
